


Set Right

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Ficlet, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 02:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4042831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwalin comes to Moria to find the treasure he lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Set Right

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Okay but there’s no concrete proof that Ori died in Moria, just sayin’.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit/The Lord of the Rings or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s somewhere around the two hundredth room that he opens the door to find a spear in his face, followed by ragged breathing and a broken, “ _Dwalin_?”

Dwalin knows what happened to the others. He found the Book of Mazarbul and read every word he could. He felt pride for his brother and sorrow for the loss, though he knew in coming here that he would find nothing good. But he couldn’t leave it. He couldn’t stay behind. He had to follow—he should’ve come in the first place. 

But it’s worth it now. The hard journey, the worst of it at the very foot of this mountain, creeping past the watcher and struggling with the riddle and sneaking past the orcs, just one dwarf amidst the dark. He’s covered in bruises and only half-patched-up wounds. But it’s worth it all to see _Ori’s face_ , first ripe with shock than wilting into tears. 

Ori wavers on the spot. Dwalin whispers through the blackness of the doorway, “Aye, lad. It’s me.”

A sob makes it out of Ori’s lips, and his knees give way. He falls to the stone floor, the spear tossed aside with a loud clatter. Dwalin hurries through the door and shuts it behind him—only one candle is lit in the room, but it could be their doom if a single beast spies it through the emptiness of the once-grand caverns. Ori can’t seem to move. He sits in a failing puddle, his hands lifting to his face. He was always thinner than is typical for a dwarf—much smaller than Dwalin—but the years and loneliness have withered him away, until he’s as thin as an elf. He isn’t quite _gaunt_ , not yet, but he isn’t the healthy thing he used to be, and it hurts Dwalin’s heart to see it. 

But his heart’s already swollen at finding Ori _alive_ , and he barely manages to say, reverent with awe, “I thought you were dead.”

“I thought I’d never see you again,” Ori returns. Then he shakes his head—his hair’s longer then Dwalin’s ever seen it, still red-brown in the candlelight, but the grey’s no longer confined to his beard. It’s all ratty, matted, and there are no braids anymore, though Dwalin can fix that easily enough. They’ll have plenty of time on the way home. Ori wipes at his wet cheek with one palm, wrapped in bandages. His old knitwear hangs off his spent body, tattered and burned. He releases another sob and croaks, “I’m sorry, the others...”

“I read the book,” Dwalin soothes as he kneels down. There’s no need to drag that pain up again. Ori nods like he understands. 

“I... I crept away... too many to kill, and I hurt my leg. I couldn’t get out. I just... I holed away and tried to _survive_ , but so many times I wondered why I bothered, and then I thought of you and Dori and Nori and I... I...”

“They wanted to come,” Dwalin cuts in, the memory of Dori’s heartbroken face still sharp in his mind. Ori was, is, _loved._ “But I knew I had to come alone. We couldn’t retake the mountain, could only sneak in and gather what we could... though we all thought you were dead. Dori understood. Nori was going to come anyway, but I snuck off without him before we planned. ’Didn’t seem right to spend two dwarves on a hopeless mission.” But now, he wishes they’d all come, just for more friendly faces to reassure Ori that there’s no giving up. Though he probably would’ve been seen or heard, if he had them. They’ll have to be deathly quiet on the way out: no words until they’re past the mountains.

Ori mumbles again, “Sorry.” He sniffs, rubs at both eyes and stammers, “I’m so sorry...”

“Shhh.” Dwalin doesn’t know what to do, know what to say. He’s just as overwhelmed. “I’m just glad to find you. _So glad_. When the book didn’t mention what happened to you, I vowed to check every room. But I didn’t think...” He trails off, finds himself choking up at Ori’s sweet face, and ends in a sighed, “ _Ori._ ”

“I should’ve never come here,” Ori sniffs. “I should’ve stayed with you...”

“Will you now?”

Ori tries to laugh. It comes out warped around his tears. But he nods his head, then suddenly lunges forward, right into Dwalin’s arms. Dwalin hadn’t wanted to break him. He feels small, vulnerable. 

But Dwalin gives in and _hugs him tight_ , finds him still warm and very much _alive_. The smell of Ori is stronger from being trapped in this little musky room, and his shape’s different. But in all the ways that matter, it’s the same as it always was. The embrace reminds him of how they used to be, when they were young heroes, sitting together atop a pile of gold in a dragon-emptied mountain. 

Dwalin loves Ori as much now as he did back then. Even when he thought Ori was gone, that love never stopped. Now it’s beating again in his arms, and he holds Ori tight against his chest, kisses Ori’s forehead, pets back Ori’s hair, and fights back his own tears. Ori starts, “Dwalin...” but can’t seem to get past the first word, and cuts off with a laugh, shaking his head. It feels like he hasn’t been happy in far too long, but he is now. 

Dwalin only waits until the emotional drain passes and Ori’s heart returns his strength. It comes back twice fold: now he doesn’t just have to escape again, he has to _rescue Ori_. Their happy ending can never be as complete as they wanted it, but they can have each other. That’s enough. Dwalin wraps one arm below Ori’s knees, the other at his back.

Dwalin scoops Ori up and returns to his feet, while Ori clings to his neck and tries to meld them together. He murmurs against Dwalin’s ear, “I have nothing to take.” Dwalin grunts acknowledgement. His pack has little room now that he’s shoved the Book of Mazarbul in it, anyway. He only has rations for one, but if he hurries, he can reach the gate by nightfall and hunt them food on the way. Ori’s worryingly light in his arms, but surviving. 

Ori snuggles into Dwalin’s shoulder and lets himself be carried back out the door, leaving the candle and the room and everything behind. Dwalin’s never needed anything else. He would’ve spent his share of Erebor’s gold to have Ori back with him.

Now, the future’s finally bright again.


End file.
